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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355612">domination</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AreinYuni/pseuds/AreinYuni'>AreinYuni</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!, Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, F/M, Gay, M/M, apparently, it started with nap time, madara practiced enough, madara wants to take over the world, more characters and relationships to be added as the story evolves!!, really gay, techincally if you practice enough you can jump high</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:20:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,587</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355612</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AreinYuni/pseuds/AreinYuni</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Madara wanted to rule this new, odd world. It would be hard and with many paths and hurdles along the way, but he'd manage.</p><p> And maybe, just maybe, he could start with conquering the art of volleyball.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Uchiha Madara/Ushijima Wakatoshi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Nap Time Started It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Madara often wasn't surprised, and often did not surprise himself. Some instants, though, in which he had surprised himself was when Obito had grown up to be such a powerful and sinister force.</p><p>The other surprise had been his betrayal. He hadn't shown it, but he had been quite surprised, and just a little itty bitty bit hurt on the inside. The last was Black Zetsu's, and, really, he should have expected that. He really should have. Everyone betrayed him in the end, didn't they?</p><p>In The Void Madara wallowed in his sorrow as is crept back up from his gallows of hell and into his mind. He had to get over himself. He had to get over these always suppressed emotions.</p><p>And as his grief came to an end, the Lord seemed to have answered his calls. A light engulfed him and wrapped around his body—his naked, small, weak body, and whisked him away.</p><p>|||</p><p>Madara Hamasaki was born a silent child with tears running down his face. His new (kinder, more loving) parents had told him that he was considered an anomaly, and had to be kept in the hospital for longer in fear of his health's deterioration. In the end Madara had ended up a healthy baby, carried away to his new home in the big arms of his father's.</p><p>Madara had felt warm.</p><p>|||</p><p>For the first time in years, in three years, Madara could finally confidently say he could go potty by himself, walk, crawl, and talk properly. His teeth were in progress of growing, and he couldn't exactly use hard work and perseverance for them to grow quicker—</p><p>or could he?</p><p>No, no he couldn't. Maybe being a child had led him to think child-like thoughts. Bored of thinking oddly, Madara finally gave himself the time of day to observe. The home was small but had this homely feel to it. A warm feeling, again. Madara got used to it.</p><p>His mother, a pretty woman with dark brown hair and red eyes. Her name was Chizue, and her former last name was replaced by his father's, her husband's, of Hamasaki.<br/>Meanwhile his father was big and buff, just like Madara had been. He had black hair and brown eyes with tanned skin. His name was Itsuki. A fitting name.</p><p>But contrary to his buff-ness, his father was quite the kind character. He'd take him to the park often, and but him things he wanted, no matter how weird. And whenever his mother would ask about what kind of father would buy his child straight-up metal, his father would reply with something along the lines of;</p><p>"A child should be allowed to experiment and live." To which his mother would just sigh and tell them to set the table for dinner.</p><p>All in all it was nice.</p><p>And then Madara had to go to kindergarten for the first time yesterday. It was an...interesting experience.</p><p>|||</p><p>Madara gripped his bag tightly, long dark hair brushing over his shoulders. At the sight of mere toddlers that were supposed to be his 'age', Madara almost gagged. So this was where he was supposed to waste two years of his life in? Madara grumbled, far keener on returning home and studying by himself. World history wasn't going to learn itself. (Madara always wondered how far civilization had to grow for them to deem it safe enough to project the world's knowledge for everyone to see. It was odd, as he was used to hoarding every secret, every inkling of knowledge to himself.)</p><p>His father and mother smiled and pushed him in with them, and Madara knew he really couldn't turn back now. Yet he still hissed in protest as he was shown to the counter lady. Her dark hair was down to her shoulders and her glasses glinted in the white light of the —rather small—reception room. Madara looked at the compelling corner of blocks and crayons and paper, and suddenly he briefly wondered if fuinjutsu would work here. But the thought vanished as soon as it came. There was no chakra to activate it in the first place, so what use would squiggly lines that would label him as some sort of demonic cultist do?</p><p>"Here he is," his father started talking to the reception lady, pushing him to the counter where Madara barely reached half of its height. He scowled. He'd show them how much taller he's going to be. Just you wait.<br/>"He's usually more mature at home, maybe the thought of having to interact with kids his age has made him nervous," his father added.</p><p>Madara's head snapped up to look at his father. Him? Nervous? The great Madara? The Fourth War Starter Madara? The One Who Defeated The God Of Shinobi Madara?</p><p>Pftt; no.</p><p>He was not nervous to see some real, three-year-old brats and talk with them.</p><p>"I would like to go back home, father," Madara hissed, pulling at his father's pant leg. But that damn traitor simply smiled and gave him a paper and told him to go find his class. The receptionist stared at the father in disbelief, as if the man had expected his child no older than three to be able to read kanji.</p><p>But Madara had years of study and writing, and had memorized all the kanji he could find in his spare time. This much was nothing in front of his great eyes.</p><p>But as Madara went down the corridor with sure, confident steps, the receptionist thought that, maybe, the school would get its own resident genius.</p><p>|||</p><p>Madara loathed kids. He always would, and always have, always has, and still does to this day. His brothers (deaddeaddead just like him) were an exception.</p><p>On to the case at hand, Madara and the rest if this class had been told to introduce themselves one by one.</p><p>"Hamasaki Madara, 3 years old, turning 4 next year, pleasure to meet you." It really wasn't a pleasure at all, but to entertain the fact that he was happy to be here then fine. He would act like he was. If for his parents then he'd do it.<br/>Madara sat back down and went back to stacking blocks. Not the typical way, nonono, Madara was far too wise. He built a foundation and made his way up from there. It was a good exercise for patience and stuff, was what he told himself.</p><p>If he was to laugh and scream as his tower fell down, well, no one would know. And if he enjoyed himself, then no one would know for sure either.</p><p>As the introductions finished they were asked to fill in the sheet of the first Hiragana, a measly letter a. Madara was ticked off, and didn't know if he'd be able to endure this type of torture.<br/>But because he was a good, caring son, Madara filled in the paper in the best calligraphy he could muster up with his tiny had and limited supplies. Calligraphy with a damn pencil wasn't easy.</p><p>The two caretakers then proceeded to take the plethoras of finished and half-finished sheets to put on their desks after helping other children.</p><p>They now had Nap Time, a time Madara would greatly come to love and appreciate, unlike the other children.</p><p>As he was about to take his first Nap, Madara spotted a head of olive-colored hair sitting stock still, unmoving and awake. Madara stared at the kid, at his golden eyes and tan skin. The kid stared back. Madara remembered when he introduced himself. He remembered everyone's names, whether he liked it or not.</p><p>His name was Ushijima Wakatoshi. A boy who liked to run, as the boy had said so when introducing himself.</p><p>"Go to sleep," Madara called out to him one table away. They were in tables as groups of five per table. Ushijima was one table away from his, and the room was quite big compared to the reception room.</p><p>"Why? School is for learning and playing, not napping," the boy had said. Madara gave him the driest look, and even Ushijima flinched a bit at that.</p><p>"And the reason you're missing out on quality sleeping and naps is because we're not supposed to be?" Madara glowered. Bastard would come to learn the luxury that is sleep.</p><p>"Y-yes?" Ushijima stuttered. Madara sighed, far too tired than he should be, and gave up to take his nap. "H-hey wait—I'll nap, okay?" Ushijima said in a hurry, quite flustered. Madara, confused but quite glad he had gotten through to the boy, briefly glanced at him to find the boy squirming to find a good position to set his head into his arms for a nap.</p><p>Madara smiled, but if anyone asked, he would deny it with every fiber of his being.</p><p>|||</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Push</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>elementary school</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Madara, quite unwillingly but not unwelcomely, became quick friends with a certain Ushijima. They often switched seats with others to take naps on the same table, and ate lunch together. Madara would sometimes give Ushijima some calligraphy tips, which greatly boosted the boy's parents' love of him. He remembered the first time he'd met them, as they had been a little reluctant in letting their son play with a boy that looked like a ruffian vampire. What with his pale skin and red eyes —from his mother— and long black hair —from his father. Madara believed he'd grow up to be quite the beauty. He laughed sinisterly, gaining him another exasperated sigh from his friend of one year.</p><p>They were on their second year of Kindergarten, and Madara had more or less gotten used to going to this 'school'. The teachers absolutely loved him, as his patient ways with the children greatly helped lighten the load.</p><p>Also that Madara was apparently 'cool', so almost everyone listened when he said anything. His long hair was a sign he'd grow up to be a mafia boss, one of the children's brother had said while snickering.</p><p>Well, Madara did want to take over this world. It would be far harder due to the fact that, no, brute force didn't work as well as it had back then— back in his world. Manipulation was harder, as you aren't even allowed to go anywhere close to any important figure without those little cameras tracking your every move.</p><p>So, Madara would do it the other way— climbing up the ranks. But how, Madara didn't know.</p><p>That's how he found himself kicking a toy ball around during play time with other children. It was colorful and far too soft, but the sensation of kicking and running seemed to flick a switch inside him.</p><p>Perhaps a sport? He'd only ever focused on doing light exercise that fit his new, shorter stature, and reading, ever since he learned to walk. He hadn't gotten to learn of normal hobbies and habits. What he did know was that there was this sport called 'football' in which, as the rather uncreative name supplied, one would kick a white and black ball around a field and passing it to others.<br/>It involved teamwork, something that Madara really wasn't the greatest at, but he could manage.</p><p>Wakatoshi stared from his spot in the sandpit, watching as Madara kicked the ball far too hard as it flew away across the play area. Wakatoshi huffed. Maybe he should have agreed to join when he had been asked to.</p><p>A little sad, Wakatoshi shoved the shovel in his hand roughly into the sand, the tool quickly finding itself to the bottom of the pit not even halfway through. What a cheap pit, Wakatoshi thought.</p><p>A shadow loomed over Wakatoshi, suddenly, and he looked up to see his friend —best, only friend?— Madara there. Wakatoshi gave a small smile and nod, and Madara proceeded to join him in the pit, grabbing all the sand and attempting to pile it up into the form of a deformed castle.</p><p>"What's wrong?" Madara asked uncharacteristically. Wakatoshi startled a bit, his face flushing. "Your face is getting red—is the sun too strong on your side? We can switch if you want—" Madara was about to stand up only for Wakatoshi to shake his head to dismiss his words.</p><p>"No! I'm totally fine!" Wakatoshi exclaimed, "just had mud on my face and scratched too hard." Madara nodded, not replying with words, but Wakatoshi felt his acceptance of the matter.</p><p>He was glad to have such a good friend.</p><p>|||</p><p>They were now in elementary, it's been two years since Madara first tried out football, and, really, he hadn't endeavored to continue pursuing it since that day. It was a sport that naturally didn't pull him in. It just didn't suit him.</p><p>So he mulled over it, bored out of his mind during second grade class, Wakatoshi next to him listening intently unlike the other children. Madara seriously wondered if his friend — and wow was that a new, new word he used everyday — had a screw loose.<br/>But Madara himself really couldn't say anything, as he'd studied up on this month's material already. The teachers weren't bothered to call out to him after a few weeks of school, and only did it to get his participation grade for the semester.</p><p>"Pstt, Wakatoshi," Madara hissed and called out to his friend. Wakatoshi tilted his head to the side, a sign that he was listening. "Wha'd'ya think about volleyball?" Wakatoshi seemed to have gotten a whiplash with how quick his head turned around to look at Madara.</p><p>Wakatoshi's eyes were sparkling, alive. Madara huffed, smiling.</p><p>"You should have told me you were interested before I brought it up if you wanted to play that badly," Madara said and flicked Wakatoshi's shoulder.</p><p>"Hamasaki! Ushijima! Pay attention during class!" the teacher chided. The pair sighed simultaneously, silently laughing.</p><p>"Yes ma'am," they said.</p><p>The teacher sighed, too, and went back to teaching the brats. The school was getting a new set of troublemakers, apparently.</p><p>|||</p><p>After the school bell rang, Madara and Wakatoshi ran to find the club posters stuck all around the hallways' walls. They desperately looked for a volleyball club, hungry for the mere though if joining one.</p><p>At last, Madara screeched with glee as he shoved a poster identical to his into Wakatoshi's chest. Wakatoshi grabbed the paper, looking it over and beaming.</p><p>"Tomorrow, come here early. Do whatever you can to convince your pops to wake up before your rooster Daichi does, you know how he gets," Madara said. Wakatoshi nodded, still quite excited. For sure, his father would let him! His father after had been a volleyball player before, too, and had been nagging at him to start training to become one.</p><p>Wakatoshi looked at Madara's bare arms, at their slightly muscled form.</p><p>Well, he had a lot to catch up on if he wanted to reach his friend's level before high school.</p><p>"Let's go Wakatoshi! Our parents are gonna worry like hell if we dont get back quickly," Madara chuckled.</p><p>"Language."</p><p>Madara waved him off, laughing and throwing an arm over his friend's shoulders. "I know, I know."</p><p>Wakatoshi pinched him, earning a yelp from the other guy. "Then stop doing it."</p><p>Madara smirked, "Maybe in a few decades, but not today buddy." Wakatoshi sighed for what felt like the hundredth time today.</p><p>"I'll hold you up on that."</p><p>"Damn stra—"</p><p>Wakatoshi glared.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Keeping the chapters a regular length so I can hold them through all the way but still include some plot ((:<br/>KUDOS AND COMMENTS ARE NICE TY</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Meeting Others</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>volleyball club, oddities ensue</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thoughts so far?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day, Madara and Wakatoshi found themselves staring at the school gym. They entered, peeking through the half open door to try and spot if anyone was there. There were three people. A middle aged man, and two kids. One was quite taller than the other. He looked to be in fourth grade; the other in second or third.</p><p>Wakatoshi and Madara looked to be the youngest. Madara grabbed Wakatoshi's hesitant arm and dragged him in to where the three were.</p><p>To be quite honest, Ushijima was a little terrified. Sure, he was excited to experience the sport he's always wanted to have a go at, and with his friend, too, but it was a little nerve racking. It did help just a little that Madara was there to project his never ending confidence that would come out of a pit of endlessness.</p><p>"Hi! We're here to sign up to the volleyball club!" Madara grinned with all —if one missing—his set of teeth, waving. Wakatoshi waved meekly too, overshadowed by Madara's exuberance.</p><p>The middle aged man grinned, waving over for them to come over enthusiastically. "Welcome! You're right on time."</p><p>Madara stood next to the fourth grader, while Wakatoshi fidgeted next to the older man.</p><p>"By some work of fate, the club managed to get four new members overnight!" the middle aged man commented with glee. The fourth grader stared, a little bit excited but also weirded out by the outburst. The third grader looked shy and terrified with being there. Wakatoshi pitied the poor boy.</p><p>There were no girls, Wakatoshi noticed offhandedly.</p><p>"Now, let's introduce ourselves," the man got his act together, "I'll start. My name is Ito Hansuke, and I've been a volleyball coach for 5 years, and have a lot fo experience with kids," Ito smiled and motioned for Madara to start, as he seemed the most willing to speak up.</p><p>Madara unlatched his hand from Wakatoshi's arm, and the latter felt a little weird as he had gotten used to it being there in the last few minutes.</p><p>"My name is Hamasaki Madara, but you can call me Madara. My dream is taking over the world, and it is a work in progress currently," he said proudly. The fourth grader snickered, muttering 'nerd'. Madara sent a heated glare the boy's direction, and the upperclassman flinched as he had not expected to be heard.</p><p>Wakatoshi patted his friend on the back. Madara simply groaned and popped his back loudly.</p><p>Ito cleared his throat, motioning for the oldest kid there to introduce himself. The boy, brown haired and black eyed, huffed and started, "I'm Watanabe Kiyoshi, and I joined this club because I was interested in learning to play volleyball." A simple answer for a simple guy. Madara snorted silently, muttering to himself a 'just like his looks.'</p><p>The coach extended a hand to signal for the shy kid to start. His hands seemed to tremble at his sides, but he stood firmly. "My name is Fukunaga Naoyuki," and boy was that a mouthful, "and I like socks."</p><p>Madara held in a laugh, silenced by Wakatoshi's cruel gut stab with his elbow. Wakatoshi wondered who raised such rude tendencies in his friend. Really, Madara's parents were angels, it was a wonder Madara grew up like this.</p><p>"Nice to meet you, kid! Now, last guy," Ito ushered Wakatoshi to end this cycle of names.</p><p>"My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi, and I like Hayashi Rice."</p><p>Madara raised a brow at Wakatoshi's rather plain introduction, but didn't comment further on the topic, as the coach had decided to give them their after-school schedules after they signed their names and grade on a paper.</p><p>'Mondays to Thursdays, directly after school from xx:xx pm until xx:xx pm'</p><p>"Is the gym free on Friday afternoon?" Madara suddenly asked. The coach raised a brow, momentarily thinking it over.</p><p>"Yes, for the football club, why do you ask?" he wondered. Madara waved him off.</p><p>"Just wanted to use it to do some exercise by myself," he replied. The coach's eyes lit up, at that.</p><p>"What a hard working boy! I may have a solution for you!" Coach Ito said. "You can come over on Saturdays at the same time and I could rope the head of the gym committee to let you in," he winked, walked off to the door to wish them luck in their classes as they were about to start in a few minutes.</p><p>Madara grinned, giving him a thumbs up, and Wakatoshi wondered what Madara would do during his 'personal training' time.</p><p>"Could Wakatoshi come?" Wakatoshi almost choked on saliva, hands waving around to squeeze on Madara's shoulders. Instead Wakatoshi's hands started to hurt because his friend like working out a little too much for his age.</p><p>"Of course! But no one else, or there's more chance you won't be able to get permission," Coach Ito said, waving as Madara and Wakatoshi left the building to head to their class.</p><p>"I like that dude. He's cool," Madara commented halfway through their silent walk to the class. Wakatoshi hummed, nodding. "Say, wanna come train with me on Saturdays?" Madara asked cheekily.</p><p>Wakatoshi met the question with a dead stare. "You're giving me a choice? Last time I checked, the great Madara-sama didn't care for others' opinions," Wakatoshi claimed. Madara paused in their walk for a second, right before the class door, and even as the bell rang, signaling the period had started.</p><p>"Well, I care for your opinion, at least," and before Wakatoshi was about to complain and claim otherwise, Madara added, "just not always," and grinned, throwing open the class door and eliciting a shout from the teacher inside and a berating over why one shouldn't be late.</p><p>Wakatoshi mulled over his friend's words, and despite the absolute cheek that dominated the last phrase, he still felt a warm feeling in his chest because—</p><p>Madara cared about his feelings!</p><p>And Wakatoshi held a silent grin. He was so gonna use it against him later.</p><p>|||</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Some world building and the volleyball's foundation (: i do know i haven't gotten everything on point about Ushijima, but it's too late ahah</p><p>KUDOS AND COMMENTS ARE NICE TY</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I DONT KNOW WHAT IM DOING BUT I LIKE IT </p><p>KUDOS AND COMMENTS ARE NICE TY</p></blockquote></div></div>
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